


and it goes on and on

by blazeofglory



Category: Lost
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Confidence Man, F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight days on the island, and Claire's already found her rhythm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it goes on and on

It’s been eight days. Eight and a half, really. Claire’s skin has already burnt and peeled and started burning again under the hot sun, and the hat she found barely helps. Her legs are covered in bug bites, from sand fleas and mosquitos and God only knows what else. Charlie is sitting next to her, and it’s been eight days. She’s not sure she even knows his last name, but what does it matter? He probably doesn’t know hers either.

They sit next to each other in silence for a while, their only shade from a piece of the wreckage, but the metal is hot to the touch, so the comfort is a little lackluster. She stares out at the ocean—she loves the beach. She always has. Never has she spent eight days sitting on any beach, though. Not until now. It’s pretty, really, but its beauty wanes as each day passes. Their hands brush, and Charlie’s is shaking. The baby is kicking and Charlie’s hand is shaking and the waves are crashing and Claire closes her eyes.

Eight days. She’s beginning to think that help may never come, discouraged by the angry people around her, the harsh sunlight, the loud noises in the trees. The moon, though; the moon helps. She feels calm when she sees it; feels a little less like she’s stuck on some other planet. Still earth. Not that far from home, really, not in the grand scheme of things. But… far enough to never be found. She gets discouraged all over again that they’re too lost, too out of the way, that no one will come.

Everyone at home must think they’re dead. She knows this must be all over the news, a list of their names and their flight number… It’s been eight days, and her legs itch, but her hand is brushing Charlie’s, so she does not dare move it away. The waves are still crashing. The baby kicks again.

It’s been eight and a half days.


End file.
